COULDN’T he make a move without being threatened? Was everyone in Faerie out to get him? This place seemed even more dangerous than his own world, where all those magic practitioners wanted to kill him. That, at least, would be a simple fate. Here, who knew what could happen to him? Snout wanted to make him a servant for seventy years; the “heart’s desire” seller wanted his fingers, or his eye color; Baba Yaga wanted to cook him. There were probably as many possible fates in this world as there were creatures who could think them up. Tim’s hands balled up into fists and his whole body tensed. Not from fear, though. Not this time. Rose laid a hand on his arm. She must have sensed his frustration. “My lady,” she addressed the green woman. “We are travelers. And we needs must walk this path wherever it will lead us.” Needs must? Tim squinted at Rose. She’d gone all medieval. He shrugged. That must be how they liked to speak here in Faerie. All fancy. “Who rides the wind must go where their steed will take them,”
